Белый Плащик
by hurg
Summary: Because you're closer than you realize.


Белый Плащик

**Epilogue and Prologue**

This is a tragedy.

Well, not necessarily. The bad guy dies, the hero succeeds, but... It's empty. So, it goes without saying.

This is a tragedy.

Murphy's Law states that whatever can go wrong will do so without fail. A supposed law of nature, if you will. And this story follows nature, it follows nature down to the self-proclaiming text books.

This is a tragedy.

Wipe the blood off your face and smile like the sick fraud you are, Lucas.

This is a tragedy.

But you don't want them to know that. You don't want them to worry. Since you are a masochist, however, let's go back. Let's press rewind on life and play the tale on the cinema screen of your mind.

This is a tragedy.

It was from the start. So sob your little half-heart out, crybaby Lucas. It's okay in this situation, this once.

This is a tragedy, after all.

.

.

.

**Act 1**

The start was as miserable as to be expected. Mother dead and brother gone, father ignoring and dog uncomprehending. In such a period of hardship, it was as though every feeling had been numbed down from a short circuit of sorts. So he observed without discrimination.

The bulk was as miserable as to be expected. Mother dead and brother gone, father ignoring and dog uncomprehending, princess yelling and thief sighing, pig men squealing and a masked boy in the shadows. In such a period of hardship, it was as though every feeling had been numbed down from a short circuit of sorts. So he observed without discrimination.

Until he committed the ultimate tragedy.

He fell in love.

.

[ n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . ]

.

And he never wanted to fall out.

.

[ n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . ]

.

But this love was not for mother dead or father ignoring or dog uncomprehending, nor princess yelling or thief sighing, never for pig men squealing (rather, an opposition there). This love was held for one (two?) alone. His beloved-his alone-the elusive masked boy in the shadows.

The visible green eye reminded him, reminded him, reminded him, reminded him, reminded him, reminded him...

_* O h i f o n l y I d i d n ' t m a k e m y s e l f f o r g e t . . . *_

...of something or someone, of another time. A one before the tragedy began. A one before they became puppets to fate's whims and amusements. Not a simpler time, per say, but a more straightforward one, surely.

_* F o r g e t i t . . . *_

And it's gone, descending on the wind like the petals of a sunflower

.

[ n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . ]

.

on a journey to the Never Never Land of yesterday.

But, Lucas was in love, so he disregarded such information that he would have otherwise stored until it had gained some credibility (and thus value). What did it matter to him what the elusive masked boy in the shadows reminded him of? No, no, it didn't matter to anyone. And if it didn't matter to anyone, what did Lucas care?

Lucas tried many things to express his undying love for the elusive masked boy in the shadows. There wasn't much to try, however. This discouraged Lucas, but love thrummed in his chest as though it were lacerated. He was determined for requital. He needed it. Which was stupid, Lucas knew (for he was a smart boy, albeit foolish), but he couldn't imagine life as it was right now anymore.

.

[ n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . w h y c a n ' t y o u b e m o r e l i k e c l a u s , l u c a s ? ]

.

whycan'tyoubemorelikeclauslucas?

He doesn't know.

whycan'tyoufeelclausanymorelucas?

He doesn't know that either.

_* I m i s s C l a u s s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o s o m u c h . . . *_

[no,lucas,youshouldn'tdothat,.

youhorrid,. - -ojlh-

whycan'tyoubemorelikeclaus,lucas?]

Sometimes, it was just too much. Sometimes, he was overwhelmed by this love idea and he crouched down and ducked his head between his legs and sat there, trying not to cry. Because Claus never cried and he wanted to be just like Claus. He always wanted to be just like Claus.

Sometimes, Lucas just hid away from mother dead and father ignoring and dog uncomprehending, princess yelling and thief sighing, pig men squealing and even a masked boy in the shadows. He hid away and pretended to be brother gone.

gonegonegonehe'sonlygonehe'snotdeadnopepleasenohe'snotdead

He hid away and the love pounded against the walls of his hollow half-heart like a drum beat, only more fierce than any rhythm. More painful and he began to wonder if his heart was rotting from the outside in. That if he just stopped love, would it stop hurting? Would it all end?

Maybe. Maybe.

All in good time, little Lucas. All in good time, in the world of Maybe.

.

.

.

**Act 3**

You don't want to do this, his heart shouts as the masked boy in the shadows lifts his cannon arm, wearing the face of brother dead. You don't want to do this. Please, Claus, don't do this. I love you. I love you.

[ n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . w h y c a n ' t y o u b e m o r e l i k e c l a u s , l u c a s ? w h y m u s t y o u b e s o d i f f i c u l t ? ]

I l o v e y o u . . .

{ BREAK }

.

.

.

**Act 2**

When he met his father again (the father who went out in search of the _o t h e r c h i l d_) the man explained that the masked boy in the shadows was...was...was...was...

...someone, and Lucas became very sad and angry and confused and love, love thrummed through his being and shook his very core of existence. He was reminded of what he was, what he had been, and who he was going to be. Of how far he has come and how far he will go

` w i t h o u t c l a u s `

in the future.

.

.

.

**Act 4**

He's dead, oh God, he's dead, oh God, oh God, oh God, he's dead, Lucas is so so so so so so sorry, he's dead, oh God, he's dead, oh God, oh God, oh God, he's dead.

Lucas is crying. Lucas the crybaby, Lucas the crybaby, Lucas is a sad little crybaby, what a wimp, crying as he holds the enemy wearing love's façade, love's façade as it encompasses them both, Lucas the crybaby, Lucas the crybaby, Lucas is a sad little crybaby, what a

. w i m p .

.

.

.

**Act 5**

He's destroyed the world. He's destroyed the entire freaking world and now he's walking around another world he'll probably destroy, kicking cans out of his way, staring at his sneakers, love still pounding in his breast like some horrid disease.

[ n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . w h y c a n ' t y o u b e m o r e l i k e c l a u s , l u c a s ? w h y m u s t y o u b e s o d i f f i c u l t ? n o l u c a s , y o u ' r e s u c h a d i s e a s e . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . ]

wretchedwretchedwretched

wretchedwretchedwretched

And it hurts, it really does. Words hurt and he hurts with them and rocks with the blows of love and words and broken ransom notes that were supposed to be love letters that died on lips zipped shut.

Forever.

And all is eventual. All is eternal. Even though Lucas is painfully aware of his own mortality, he is even more so of his brother's and that of the masked creature that took his brother's place on the chessboard.

He's crying again, just like old days. Just like old days with Claus.

CLAUSCLAUSCLAUSCLAUS

How does it feel, Lucas? And he thinks that it sizzles so bittersweetly on his tongue as it slips down to his stomach. A case of heartburn, perhaps. (And he knows that the heart is but a pulsing, disgusting muscle, but why does it _pain_ him so?) Mild indigestion on a word. It's just a word, if even that. Something that can be shaped by the tongue and uttered by the throat, only a sound.

It's insignificant. But someone cared enough to make it.

Mommommymummothermamamamummy

I m i s s y o u . . .

Poor little crybaby Lucas misses his mommy and his twin and his dog and his daddy and his friends. Twin. Twin... Claus. Claus. A name. Just a name. Claus. Try it again, Lucas. You just might go clinically insane if you do it enough. Let's see, hm? A hypothesis and then an experiment performed two hundred times to prove validity. You can stomach it. If you can stomach the guilt of killing all of your people, you can do this.

If you can stomach killing your other half, you can deal.

Because Claus is Lucas and Lucas is Claus. They are one in being and soul and all else in between and beyond. They are conjoined at the heart and maybe that's why this is so, so, so...

[ n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . w h y c a n ' t y o u b e m o r e l i k e c l a u s , l u c a s ? w h y m u s t y o u b e s o d i f f i c u l t ? n o l u c a s , y o u ' r e s u c h a d i s e a s e . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . w h y c a n ' t y o u b e m o r e l i k e c l a u s , l u c a s ? w h y m u s t y o u b e s o d i f f i c u l t ? n o l u c a s , y o u ' r e s u c h a d i s e a s e . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . ]

No.

[ n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . w h y c a n ' t y o u b e m o r e l i k e c l a u s , l u c a s ? w h y m u s t y o u b e s o d i f f i c u l t ? n o l u c a s , y o u ' r e s u c h a d i s e a s e . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . w h y c a n ' t y o u b e m o r e l i k e c l a u s , l u c a s ? w h y m u s t y o u b e s o d i f f i c u l t ? n o l u c a s , y o u ' r e s u c h a d i s e a s e . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . n o , l u c a s , y o u s h o u l d n ' t d o t h a t , l u c a s . r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u h o r r i d , r o t t e n c h i l d . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . w h y c a n ' t y o u b e m o r e l i k e c l a u s , l u c a s ? w h y m u s t y o u b e s o d i f f i c u l t ? n o l u c a s , y o u ' r e s u c h a d i s e a s e . y o u a r e a w r e t c h e d t h i n g . ]

No, you are wrong. WRONG.

.

Kick a can, Lucas. Send it tumbling out of your way as you continue down your destructive path. Whether this is literally or figurative, Lucas doesn't know. Both. Neither. None. Nothing. Everything. All.

{ BANG }

...What was that...?

.

.

.

**Intermission**

Claus had always been more adventurous than Lucas. Claus liked to play Stick-Ball with Fuel and wrestle with the Dragos. Lucas didn't feel comfortable with any of those things, but the social awkwardness that was his brother never stopped Claus from demanding for him to come with him.

If Claus ever decided on anyone, it was always Lucas first. For anything. Lucas was first on Claus's list of priorities. It was likewise, of course. Lucas held Claus is such high regard, he considered him a near second half. A soul mate.

They protected each other in the naïve world of the Nowhere Islands, protected each other in the post-apocalyptic future days of the old ways of back when. They danced with each other in a careful fashion on a line in a field of sunflowers, darting to one side of it every once in a while.

.

.

.

**Act 9**

He's arrogant, that's for sure. An arrogant fool. A simple, "Watch out next time, _kid_," and he walks away with that stupid red ball in his hand that summoned a frightening monster.

Not as frightening as the creature before, however.

Not as frightening as the boy's defeat before.

Because-what was his name, Ness?-reminds him, reminds him, reminds him, reminds him, reminds him, reminds him...

_* O h i f o n l y I d i d n ' t m a k e m y s e l f f o r g e t . . . *_

...of something or someone, of another time. A one before the tragedy began. A one before they became puppets to fate's whims and amusements. Not a simpler time, per say, but a more straightforward one, surely.

_* F o r g e t i t . . . *_

And it's gone, descending on the wind like the petals of a sunflower on a journey to the Never Never Land of post-apocalyptic yesterday.

.

.

.

**Act 6**

Pig King Statue, from his own world stands behind him with its hostile glare and Lucas muses for a moment, just a moment, the insanity and irony of the situation. Of all the things to survive the destruction (_he_ had wrought), it had to be _that thing_. That stupid thing!

But panic seized him because he was in a vulnerable state of mind right now. Delicately strong. So he ran. He went into a dead sprint, anaerobic respiration his less-than-thought out key to success.

Stupid, of course. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

He trips. He _trips_ on some chunk of metal sticking out of the ground and gets his foot caught underneath it. He tugs. It does not come out.

Stupid, of course. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Lucas is an animal in a trap, however, and he writhes about as though possessed. Not even thinking to angle his leg. All he knows is that love hurts and Pig King Statue is approaching.

{ BANG }

...What was that...?

.

.

.

**Act 8**

Porky. Of all the people. Porky. King Porky had to be the other survivor. That viscous, horrid-how'd he get out of the Absolute Safety Capsule? Is that possible? And the old child and Ness share a look, a secret look. One of connection and knowledge, of pain and betrayed trust and _love_ of friends.

Lucas understands. He doesn't say so, but that's simply because he does.

.

.

.

**Act 7**

A PK Thunder slams right into the Pig King Statue. It's almost laughable in Lucas's opinion. The Pig King Statue has a massive amount of stamina. He had only managed to destroyed it by using a New Years Eve Bomb. What is a _PK Thunder_ going to do?

Quite a lot, apparently. The ugly thing is swept off its feet and lands on its back. That psionic move had packed quite the punch to do that.

...And who had dealt the attack? Kumatora is the only he knows who did such a move and for a moment he is hoping, praying for princess yelling.

A boy lands before him, a cocky smile painted on his plain face. He takes a quick, uninterested look at Lucas, saying something about things being "okay" and steadies his pose for the statue to make its move.

Moments in time, Lucas realizes, and he thinks of that smile and Claus and for a moment it blends and the masked boy in the shadows, _his Claus_, is back, and he raises up, leg breaking free. Claus! Brother! Love!

But no, it is that capped boy. That capped boy who is so much like Claus that Lucas wants to go back to his old ways and cry. The boy notices Lucas's apparent distress from the corner of his eye and offers his name.

Ness.

Lucas stutters out his own utterance, gathering his thoughts. Ness. NessNessNessNessNess. I feel happy, Ness. Why does that idea frighten him so?

Ness.

He will leave it at that, for his own sanity.

The Pig King Statue leaps back up and Ness does so in return, releasing a PK Flash at the creature. Lucas knows such a move, it makes things cry. But...this PK Flash travels into the statue and holds itself there before...

Explosion.

.

.

.

**Act 10**

And as he races after that pompous boy, it echoes though his mind, reminds him, reminds him, reminds him, reminds him, reminds him...

_* O h i f o n l y I d i d n ' t m a k e m y s e l f f o r g e t . . . *_

...of something or someone, of another time. A one before the tragedy began. A one before they became puppets to fate's whims and amusements. Not a simpler time, per say, but a more straightforward one, surely.

_* F o r g e t i t . . . *_

And it's gone, descending on the wind like the petals of a sunflower on a journey to the Never Never Land of a yesterday that threatens him when he closes his eyes.

Breathe in, Lucas. Breathe out. Resume life. And repeat.

.

.

.

**Epilogue and Prologue**

This is a tragedy.

Well, not necessarily. The bad guy dies, the hero succeeds, but... It's empty. So, it goes without saying.

This is a tragedy.

Murphy's Law states that whatever can go wrong will do so without fail. A supposed law of nature, if you will. And this story follows nature, it follows nature down to the self-proclaiming text books.

This is a tragedy.

Wipe the blood of your face and smile like the sick fraud you are, Lucas.

This is a tragedy.

But you don't want them to know that. You don't want them to worry. Since you are a masochist, however, let's go back. Let's press rewind on life and play the tale on the cinema screen of your mind.

This is a tragedy.

It was from the start. So sob your little half-heart out, crybaby Lucas. It's okay in this situation, this once.

This is a tragedy, after all.

…

…

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

Funny.


End file.
